Boehm’s Collection of Birds

EG recently sent me a photograph of a magnificent 17½-inch porcelain Blue Jay perched among raspberry branches; its brilliant plumage modeled in hard-paste porcelain and hand-painted with extraordinary precision. Created in the late 1960s by Edward Marshall “Ted” Boehm (1913–1969), the sculpture immediately transported me back to childhood.

My mother, Elinor, longed to collect Boehm porcelain during the 1960s. My father admired the sculptures but thought they were extravagant purchases, so he often substituted less expensive copies produced by the Japanese firm Lefton China for special birthdays and anniversaries. The most American of all figurative art forms, porcelain miniatures were accessible to almost all budgets, but not my dad’s: here’s what they cost in the 1960s: Small animal pieces like the White Mouse Preening (issued 1957–1961) originally retailed for $15. Smaller animal/bird figurines like the Rabbit with Bow (issued 1957–1961) debuted around $7.50. (More intricately detailed bird sculptures retailed between $25 and $100.) 

I still remember Elly’s treasured large scale Boehm rabbit, which she bought from Marshall Field’s in downtown Chicago and sneaked it into the Deerfield house. Seeing this blue jay brought those memories flooding back. 

Yes, almost anyone could own a Boehm work of art: it was middle class “classy” in those days. It was also easily understood to BE something, it looked “real.” Once among America’s most coveted porcelain sculptures, many pieces now sell for a fraction of their original prestige. This particular blue jay, despite its remarkable craftsmanship, would likely bring no more than about $500 at auction. 

Ted was born in Baltimore in 1913; his father left the house when he was born; he lost his mother at the age of seven, whereupon his neighbors arranged a place for him – as a military school student trading work for studies at Maryland’s McDonogh School, originally established for orphaned and impoverished boys during the Civil War. There he learned farming, animal husbandry, horsemanship, and practical trades. Animals became his lifelong companions, and he began to study animal draftsmanship wandering the school’s 830 acre grounds.

After studying animal husbandry and farm management at the University of Maryland, Boehm apprenticed with the American sculptor Herbert Haseltine, who was a bronze sculptor of some renown. Boehm became fascinated with porcelain; unlike Haseltine, he modelled no human figures, and began with birds.

Unlike many wildlife artists who worked from mounted birds (such as John James Audubon), Boehm studied living birds, establishing an aviary on the shores of the Maryland River. He observed bird movements and did not kill specimens; in fact, his aviaries were known for raising species that had never been raised in captivity, earning positive recognition from the Audubon Society. Every feather, posture, and tilt of the head in a Boehm sculpture reflects countless hours spent watching living birds. He died at his aviary at the age of 55. His wife, Helen, became his canny business partner, and personally presented First Lady Mamie Eisenhower with one of her husband’s sculptures in porcelain. After Mamie praised his work, Ted became an American success story! Helen found markets for Ted’s works of art in America and began to court European buyers, beginning at the top with gifts to England’s Royal Family.

International recognition came quickly. By the 1960s, his porcelain birds graced the china cabinets of many upper middle-class homes in America. Today his work resides in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Buckingham Palace, the Hermitage Museum, and the Vatican Museums. The Vatican named one of its museum wings after Edward Marshall Boehm – the first American ever to receive such recognition.

Perhaps his finest achievements were his large-scale studies of North American birds. The blue jay before me captures not only brilliant color but also personality. My problem is that none of my children think it is worth keeping.

I have always loved blue jays myself. My cabin at Lake Arrowhead sits near a little community of blue jays. Blue jays are remarkably intelligent members of the crow family. They cache acorns, helping spread oak forests across North America after the last Ice Age. They recognize one another by the distinctive black brindle markings around the face and throat, remain closely bonded to family groups and, according to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, may live well into their twenties. That knowledge somehow enriches Boehm’s sculpture. But not for my kids. Even harder to sell are the elegant (at the time) collector’s plates, finished in gold, with images of American birds. Boehm figurines are considered lowbrow today, not categorized as art but tchotchkes.